Her words were low and her breaths too harsh for Michael to hear.
"What Mama?"
Michael leaned close, careful not to touch her translucent skin; it looked so cold but Michael knew it would be fleshy and lukewarm, like when he found his goldfish out of its bowl four days after he had won it at the carnival at school.
Mama looked up at him, her chest rising rapidly. Michael brought the glass of water from the nightstand to her mouth, sloshing liquid along her bed sheets and nightgown. He held the glass to her lips till he heard a choking sound.
Michael furrowed his brows and clutched the glass to his chest. Softer now, "What Mama? What is it you need?"
Her lips moved quickly, her words muffled. Still Michael understood.
"I'll go get him."
Michael fidgeted under the beating sun, his scalp itchy from the new hat Linc had given him.
"Travis."
Michael concentrated on his shoes as scuffing feet sent clouds of red dirt over his white sneakers and gray socks.
"Um, Simon, I guess."
Michael's hand was sweaty inside his glove. It felt like it might slide off.
"Then we'll take Billy."
At this Michael looked up, squinting at Billy's back as he meandered towards left field. The other boys were silent for a moment, staring at Michael and the kid who stood next to him, clutching an inhaler.
Michael got the courage to stare back, willing the boy in charge.
"David, you're with us."
"This position is rather competitive, an internship like this doesn't come along every day."
Michael leaned forward in his desk, suddenly interested in what Professor Donaldson had to say. Movement at his side caused Michael's eyes to flick away from the podium. Justin Wielden was paying attention to Beth rather than the class. He flirted loudly and the nearby students began to rustle.
"…also requires three letters of recommendation, and must be submitted before the end of the month. I hope to see certain students in this course apply."
Professor Donaldson gazed approvingly upon Justin who straightened in his chair, confident after Beth had said yes.
T-Bag caught his eyes halfway across the yard. Michael fought the urge to flinch and held his stare before turning away in feigned nonchalance.
At T-Bag's advancing swagger, "Ah too late, Fish. He's set on you today." Sucre shifted his weight from foot to foot, as if he considered leaving Michael alone.
Michael stifled a sigh and concentrated on the link fence that divided the grounds, willing the form of his brother to appear.
"Ah, Papi, God is smiling on you. He's got that new kid." Sucre stilled his feet, nodding his grin toward the middle of the yard.
Though still some distance away, Michael could hear that cutting Southern lilt.
"…no, you ain't too pretty but there still is something about you, isn't there? You ain't ugly, that's for sure. Why, you certainly are a little 'tweener, aren't you?"
Lincoln stares for a moment, then removed his sunglasses.
"You know I have to."
Michael's breath hitched, his chest weighing down upon him. "I just need more time."
"I won't wait. I can't."
His voice is stern, yet lowered from effort to coax. Michael can feel his words vibrate. He moves to take a step forward, then stops himself.
"Please, you know we need this money. We will not survive without it."
"I'm not asking you to come."
Michael's dry lips stick together, his mouth contorting as his mind races.
"I'll take care of this. Us. We'll meet up. You get LJ." Michael puts his hands on his hips decisively, briefly looking away.
When he looks back, Lincoln has replaced his sunglasses and moves toward the car.
"We'll meet up," he says louder, this time his voice cracking.
Lincoln starts the engine. "Yeah, we will. Take care, Michael."